


I'll See You Next Time That I'm Around

by wayward_winter_soldier



Series: The Institute [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels are Dicks, Angst and Feels, Chick-Flick Moments, Conversations in the Impala (Supernatural), Cryogenics, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Dean Winchester Is Trying, Dean Winchester Thought Sam Was Dead, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Destiel if you squint - Freeform, Gen, Hey Jude, Kidnapped Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Quote: No chick-flick moments. (Supernatural), Recovery, Sam Winchester Has Issues, Sam Winchester Has Nightmares, Sam Winchester Has PTSD, Sam Winchester has Trama, Sam Winchester is Missing, Sam Winchester is Very Young, Sam Winchester is a nerd, Some Chick-Flick Moments, Zeppelin Rules
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23880328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_winter_soldier/pseuds/wayward_winter_soldier
Summary: It's been ten years since Sam Winchester died and Dean is still hunting down his killer.Meanwhile, Sam returns, though he hasn't aged a day and no one knows why.Doctor Carter is still looking for his subject, and the apocalypse is about to start.The real apocalypse.THIS IS A SEQUEL TO "Scottwell Institute for the Betterment of Science" READ THAT FIRST!!!THIS FIC IS BEING HEAVILY EDITED! I APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE AND PLOTHOLES!
Series: The Institute [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721041
Comments: 13
Kudos: 82





	1. All Day and All of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> AND I'm back!!!  
> Hope you enjoy, thanks for all the nice comments!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED

**Chapter 1: All Day and All of the Night**

* * *

Dean Winchester woke with a start, his face covered in sweat, and the blankets wrapped around his feet like snakes in a Spielberg movie. Another nightmare. It had been happening more recently and Dean chalked that up to the fact that they were coming up on ten years. Ten long years.

Ten years without Sam.

It had been the longest ten years of Dean's life. It was worse than when Sam was at Stanford because at least he could call him or even show up on his doorstep. He couldn't do that now. All he could do was go out to the back where Bobby and he had set up a memorial. They didn't have Sam's body. It wasn't a grave, Dean refused to call it that.

He had tried every red-eyed demon from here to Nantucket, and nothing. He had tried to sell his soul and there were no takers. Dean couldn't help but suspect that was the Angel's fault, though his new friend Castiel never said it. Castiel wasn't much help on the search, but he had his moments.

Dean sighed, looking at the alarm clock on the bedside table, trying his best to ignore the empty bed across the room. That was Sammy's bed. And he should be in it.

12:32 pm.

It was late.

Dean cursed as he untangled the old blankets and threw them back on the creaking bed, not bothering to fold them or make the bed. The only person who ever made the bed at Bobby's was Sam.

Sam.

Sam wasn't here.

Dean went down the staircase two steps at a time, the smell of coffee radiating from the kitchen. Bobby was sitting at the dining table, a newspaper in his hands.

"You didn't wake me. It's past noon," Dean said, pouring his own cup of coffee.

"I ain't yer mother," Bobby shot back, not looking up from the sports section.

"You know what day it is?" Dean asked.

Bobby put his paper down. "Yeah, Boy. I do."

The two hunters didn't say anything, sort of like a moment of silence.

"He would have been thirty-three today," Dean mumbled softly like he didn't want to be heard.

"I know," Bobby replied.

* * *

The cryo freeze machine was old, at least twenty years. No one had worked on it in ten of those years, so it was bound to break eventually. Doctor Carter had thought it would last long enough for him to get out of prison, a ten-year sentence.

And it had, save a few months. But the truth was, no one had that good of luck.

Except, perhaps, the resident of the cryo freeze chamber, who, at exactly midnight of May the second, found himself no longer frozen in time.

The old metal door creaked open, a billow of icy smoke seeping into the room.

Sam Winchester opened his eyes for the first time in ten years.

"Dean," he mumbled, still restained in the chamber, though those were old too and broke easily enough despite Sam's weakness. The young man found himself falling to the ground, still dazed and unable to properly catch himself.

The meeting with the floor seemed to wake him up though and left a nice bruise on his cheek to remember it by.

So far, this was not the greatest birthday.

Sam stood up, his hands grabbing a nearby counter to steady himself. He didn't remember much besides Azazel wanting him to kill Michael and Sam instead killed the demon. He remembered Dean being there. Where was Dean now?

The youngest Winchester rubbed his head as he looked around the room. It seemed pretty abandoned, but it looked like the Insitute. Where else would he be? Sam shivered from memories. He wanted to be any place but here, he thought as he tugged on the door, its old hinges protesting a great deal but giving away nevertheless. 

Sam noticed right away he was in a basement, but that was only because the stairs were right there when he exited the room. Call it luck or coincidence, but Sam would take it either way. As he climbed the stairs, he noticed police tape falling off the once white walls and graphite staining the interior as well.

"Hello?" Sam called out cautiously, shivering in his too-thin T-shirt. The last thing he wanted was Doctor Carter to still be here, but judging by the neglect, he couldn't help but assume everyone had jumped ship. At least, he hoped

His voice echoed across the halls, but no one replied. Sam narrowed his eyes. Where had everyone gone? Had Michael killed everyone, including Dean?

Dean. No, he couldn't be dead. That would be impossible. 

Sam tried his best to not think about his brother's dead body, but it was becoming increasingly harder and harder to do as he made his way down the halls. Dean couldn't be dead. There was no way.

He could feel tears beginning to prick the corners of his eyes. He was terrified. He couldn't stay here, what if Carter and the other people came back? He couldn't leave, though. Where was he supposed to go? Sam felt the warm tears begin to fall and let them, falling to the dirty floor where he leaned his head against one of the walls and pulled his legs to his chest.

He wanted Dean. Where was Dean?


	2. Sometimes I Wish Someone Out There Will Find Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! I'm really glad y'all are liking the book so far! Comments make my day! <3
> 
> THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED!

**Chapter 2: Sometimes I Wish Someone Out There Will Find Me**

* * *

Dean looked up at where Castiel had appeared. The angel seemed to understand what day it was and gave his friend a tight smile that anyone else would consider fake. Dean nodded his head to Cas, beckoning him to join him at the dining room table, which he did, taking a seat across from the eldest Winchester. He ignored the whiskey bottle in front of Dean and the lack of glass, telling Cas he was drinking straight from the bottle.

"Ten fucking years," Dean spoke softly, taking a swing of the bitter alcohol and hardly wincing at its taste. "Seems like it was yesterday."

Castiel said nothing, only watched his friend drink himself into a state of uncaring. He was used to it at this point, especially when it came to May second. 

"I should go back there."

"What?" Cas gave Dean a concerned and confused look, a frown present on his face.

Dean met Castiel's eyes, a smug smile on his face that was most likely due to the liquor. "Pay my respects. C'mon, Cas. We can even light up the place if we really want. I've been dreaming of that for a long time, to be honest."

"Dean, you're drunk," Cas said simply as if it were news to either of the two.

"So?"

Castiel huffed a bit, pursing his lips in the way he did when Dean was being disagreeable. He couldn't say he totally understood Dean's anger and sadness, but he could be there for his friend. And perhaps he had a point. Even if he was a little hammered, Dean Winchester was no light-weight. Maybe going back to that hellhole Castiel had only heard stories about would be good for him. Maybe he would finally get some closure. He deserved that, at least.

The angel stood from his chair, looking over at Dean, who was drinking once more. He gently removed the bottle from the hunter's hands, setting it off to the side on the kitchen counter. Dean gave him a quizzical look but said nothing. 

"Okay. Let's go then."

Dean's face lit up. "Really?"

Castiel nodded, already beginning to doubt his decision. "If you believe it will help, then yes."

Dean stood, the whiskey forgotten and a smile still on his face. "I do."

The angel nodded, taking the hunter's hand in his own. Dean blushed a bit but said nothing, his eyes still glued to the angel. "Then we shall go."

* * *

Sam didn't know how long he spent crying in the hallway. He really didn't have any sense of time, what with the windows all boarded up and the lack of clocks in the building. He sniffled, running his wrist against his nose like he was a kid again. This was dumb. He was being dumb. He couldn't help it. Everything was wrong. He was supposed to be dead. Why wasn't he dead?

Hadn't he died when he killed Azazel? Wasn't that what had happened? His mind was cloudy and he didn't remember much. He slammed his head against the rough wall once more in annoyance. 

This felt like purgatory. Sam wasn't sure if purgatory was real, but if it was, that's where he was. Stuck in a limbo where time did not exist, forced to be alive when he knew he was meant to be dead. It must have something to do with the machine he was in, he thought. 

He stood, his legs shaking a bit, but he stabilized himself by grabbing the wall. He had to find food, right? That was important. And water. He was supposed to be dead, but did that mean he had to die? He wasn't so sure, so he started to walk, his hands tracing the cracks in the cinderblocks of the wall. He closed his eyes tightly for a second, his head hurting. Memories clouded his brain and he winced at how awful they all were.

_"Think of it as a mix between a taser and a cattle prod, Twenty-Nine."_

No! Sam stopped, burying his face in his hands. "Get out of my head."

_"I want you to know what we take away from you."_

Tears began to stream down Sam's face again. The doctor would find him. He would be back to hurt him or perhaps kill him. He knew it. He started to run, his head fogged up with the terrible memories that he just couldn't escape. This was all too much. He didn't know if he could take it. Maybe he should just die. Forget about food and water and just let himself rot away in this horrible place.

His legs were still weak and they tangled around each other as he tried to pick up his pace, sending Sam to the hard ground where he hit his arm. It would bruise, he thought as he looked at it, though he supposed it would blend right in with all the other bruises and scars he had. He laid there for a moment, his arms wrapped around his shoulders. He could feel the brands under his thin shirt and it only made him cry harder.

Up ahead he heard footsteps. Carter. The doctor was back to finish the job. Sam's heart skipped a beat. He had to hide. He had to get out of here.

Sam whimpered, dragging his weak body into the nearest room, hoping they wouldn't find him. He knew he would only be punished later on but he didn't care. All he cared about was survival. He rather die on his own than let Carter continue his sick experiments on him.

He had ended up in what looked like an office. Sam pulled himself up against a wall, curling up as tightly as he could in a corner that sat behind the large metal desk. He tried to even out his scared sobs, but there was no way they didn't hear him. He couldn't make them stop and he was beginning to hyperventilate. He covered his mouth with his hand but that only seemed to make things worse. The footsteps were louder and louder and Sam's heart was racing in his chest.

Soon, the footsteps stopped. They were deadly close to the room Sam was currently in. Sam held his breath as he closed his eyes, trying to stop the mangled sobs that escaped his lips to no avail.

"Sammy?"


	3. I Was a Lonely Teenage Broncin' Buck With a Pink Carnation and a Pickup Truck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bye, bye Miss American Pie  
> Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry  
> And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye  
> Singin' this'll be the day that I die  
> This'll be the day that I die  
> (I've had this song stuck in my head for two days. enjoy the chapter)
> 
> THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED!

**Chapter 3: I Was a Lonely Teenage Broncin' Buck With a Pink Carnation and a Pickup Truck**

* * *

Dean's stomach lurched when they arrived at their location via Angel Transport. He almost puked up the liquor he had swallowed down earlier, but he managed to keep it in, his eyes staring warily at the building before him, its looming presence almost getting the best of him.

It had been condemned and boarded up, a bit of graffiti coloring its once stark-white walls, but it looked the same as it did ten years ago, in Dean's opinion. There were padlocks on gates that Cas easily broke and locks in heavy metal doors that Dean picked with ease, so the duo continued, stepping into the haunting building. It was devoid of life. Dean had suspected it would be, it was still weird to see it so lifeless, though. HE half expected to see someone at the front desk, but there wasn't a single soul in the entire building. The entire interior was dusty and forgotten. On one hand, Dean wanted to forget this place ever existed. On the other, he was afraid if he forgot it, he would forget Sam too.

Castiel seemed to be hearing something, Dean noted. The angel's head was tilted in a way that reminded him of Data from Star Trek. A lot of things Cas did remind Dean of Data and he only wished Sam was here to share in his nerdy references since Cas didn't understand them and Bobby had only seen Deep Space Nine. 

"What?" Dean questioned.

"There is something here."

Dean frowned. Something here? What the hell did that mean? It could be a homeless person, but Dean hadn't seen any evidence of breaking. Perhaps there was another entrance somewhere, a window that was properly boarded. Or it could be an animal. Cas hadn't exactly been specific in what he had sensed.

"Okay, we'll check it out. Probably just some junkie, though, or a raccoon," Dean noted, watching as Cas nodded curtly and began walking in the direction that Dean could only assume was where the mystery being was. Dean followed, removing the pistol from his belt just in case. It could be some drugged-out kid or a monster. You just never knew.

The halls were as dusty as the entrance had been if that was even possible. Everything looked like the stereotypical horror movie insane asylum, with the abandoned offices and files thrown around everywhere as if everyone had left in a big rush, which Dean knew they did. In any other situation, Dean would have joked about how they were in a horror movie and that Cas was the chick who got slain in her bikini. He didn't, mostly because Cas wouldn't have gotten it anyway. Sam would have, he thought bitterly. Sam would have given Dean a petulant look but Dean would have known that Sam found it funny anyway.

"This person... they're very scared, Dean," Cas said as he turned a corner, looking back to meet Dean's eyes. The hunter seemed distracted but nodded anyway.

"It's a person then? Not an animal or like... monster?"

Cas confirmed Dean's speculation. "They are human."

Dean made an indifferent grunt and continued. 

Castiel sighed a bit at Dean's answer but continued.

"We're almost there. Dean... they're terrified. They need help."

"Then we'll help," Dean said simply, his hands still on his gun, ready to shoot at a moment's notice. He wasn't sure what to expect, but he hoped it was nothing. He wasn't in the mood to deal with any lost souls at the moment. The last thing he needed was some strung-out homeless guy attacking him for a couple of bucks.

They rounded another corner and that's when Dean heard it. The crying. It broke his heart just imagining who could be making those sounds. It was a lot like...

Like Sam. 

Sam would wake up from nightmares crying. When he was young, after Jess, even just because of their job. He was always crying, that's what made him wake up. Dean would always sit with him until he fell asleep again. The thought of his little brother made his heart clench. 

"Cas..."

"They're human," Cas reminded him as if he had forgotten in the last five minutes.

"Okay, well, don't scare them," Dean said as the sobs grew louder and louder. Dean still had his gun out, but he was beginning to think he may not even need it anymore. What if it was just some lost kid looking for his parents? His eyes fell on the open doorway to the room he assumed the person crying was in. He could see the shadow of a curled-up figure, some light shinning through the border-up windows in the room. Castiel gave him a nod to confirm his theory. Slowly, Dean approached, not wanting to frighten them any more.

He was expecting a kid, maybe even a teen.

He was not expecting his little brother.

"Sammy?"

The figure stiffened at the name but Dean didn't really notice. All he really saw was his brother. His dead brother. His gun dropped from his hand and clattered to the floor loudly, disrupting the dust around it and making Sam jump again. No, it couldn't be, it was impossible, Dean had seen him die.

But Dean would recognize that hair anywhere, even if it was shorter than he usually wore it and in need of a good wash. And those eyes that stared at him in fear... those were Sam's eyes. Hazel brown with little specs of gold that shone when the sun shined just right. He looked just like he did ten years ago. Like he had never left. Like nothing had ever happened.

Like no time had gone past.

But that didn't make sense. If he was alive after all this time, he would have been older. Right?

Dean walked closer to his shaking brother, wanting nothing more than to hug him tightly. He knew right from the moment that Sam pushed himself back into the impossibly tight corner that that wasn't going to happen.

"Sammy... you're alive, I can't believe it!"

Cas watched from the doorway, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand. He's dead; he shouldn't be here."

"Me neither, but don't look a gift horse in the mouth, right?"

"I don't understand that either."

"Nevermind."

Dean crouched next to Sam, reaching his hand out to touch him ever so gently. Sam recoiled as if he's been burned, his eyes wide with fear. "Please... don't h-hurt me."

The eldest Winchester felt his heart crack into a million pieces. He would never hurt Sam. Never. Why did he think he would hurt him?

"Sam, it's me... it's Dean... your brother. Do you remember me? I'm not gonna hurt you."

Sam said nothing in return, only continued to try and get away from Dean as if he might harm him. Dean frowned at this, his eyes beginning to grow wet with frustrated tears. How could Sam not see who he was? 

"Dean... let me put him to sleep. We can return home... figure everything out."

"But-"

"Dean, he's scared."

Dean paused then nodded, though he was only really half-listening to what Cas was saying. He was right, though. Sam was petrified and Dean was doing more harm than good. He moved back, giving Cas the room he would need. The angel came into the office and laid a gentle hand on Sam's forehead, ignoring the fear in the youngest Winchester's eyes, for they soon closed, Sam falling to sleep.

"Yeah... Let's just go," Dean said, wiping away a stray tear.

Cas nodded, picking up Sam and carrying him bridal style. Dean laid a hand on Castiel's shoulder and they were off.


	4. You Look Like You've Been For Breakfast at the Heartbreak Hotel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello guys. so, yeah, i know it's been a while! I've been having some major writer's block and had no fricking idea where to go with this story. i feel bad cause it's super slow and boring rn but I promise it will pick up!!!
> 
> also, I just want to say THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO IS WORKING DURING THE PANDEMIC!!! if that's you, THANK YOU and if that's a loved one of yours TELL THEM THANK YOU! i don't mean just medical professions either, thank you to cashiers and delivery people and mail people and food workers and everyone else working with people right now. STAY SAFE AND HEALTHY!!! my mom, dad, and step-dad are currently working rn (my mom is the only one working mostly from home because she is a therapist) so know that I super appreciate everything.
> 
> Okay, on with the chapter!!!
> 
> THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED!

**Chapter 4: You Look Like You've Been For Breakfast at the Heartbreak Hotel**

* * *

_Sam opened his eyes, blinking against the bright light coming from the overhead lamp. He tried to reached his hand up to block out the blinding rays, but they were restained. He turned, looking at the thick leather cuffs that kept him tied down to the cold metal table. He struggled, but they only seemed to tighten in his efforts._

_"Hello, Twenty-Nine."_

_Sam could feel the fear coursing through his veins as he came face to face with Dr. Carter. He tried to speak but there was something blocking his mouth. The doctor smiled at him as he tried to speak. He gathered something off of a table and showed it to Sam. He froze the words dying in his dry throat._

_The electroshock headband._

_It was placed on Sam's forehead, the doctor still smiling evilly towards Sam, who struggled to dislodge the machine to no avail._

_"Highest setting," Carter spoke, his cruel eyes still staring into Sam's soul._

_Sam screamed behind the gag, feeling the electricity rush through his body._

* * *

Dean jumped at the sound of his brother screaming in his sleep. He looked at Cas, who had been sitting in one of the chairs next to Dean, waiting for Sam to wake up. Bobby rushed in, standing in the doorway and watching the youngest Winchester thrash around on his battered couch.

"Do something!"

Dean rushed over, trying his best to hold Sam down. His eyes opened wide and his screaming ceased. He looked around wildly as if he were a caged animal. Sam tried to get away from Dean's grip but he wouldn't let go.

"Sam, you're okay, I'm here."

"No! No more! Please!" Sam begged, tears streaming down the young man's face as he begged. Dean sighed, letting go of Sam since it seemed to be doing more harm than good. Sam in return wrapped his arms around his folded legs, resting his chin on top of his knees as he watched the three men fearfully.

"Bad dream?" Bobby guessed, not taking his eyes off Sam.

"Guess so," Dean answered. "I wish I knew what was going on inside his head. So I could help."

"You don't want to know that," Cas informed, still seated in the armchair. "There are terrible things in there."

Dean gave the angel a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Sam Winchester has suffered tremendously. I saw his mind when I made him sleep. I'm not sure he'll ever be the Sam you remember again."

Dean scoffed at that, rolling his eyes. "No, I don't buy that. Sam's strong, we'll get through this."

"Though your optimism is well-meaning, it is displaced. Sam does not recognize you, Dean. He doesn't know where he is."

"Yes he does," Dean argued, turning towards Sam once more. "Who am I, Sammy? Hmm? Prove Cas wrong."

Sam said nothing, only stared at his older brother as if he was speaking Klingon. Well, maybe that was misplaced, Sam knew some Klingon. Like Dean was speaking German. 

"Sammy, c'mon, you know me. What's my name?"

Sam shook under the attention he was receiving. He looked down at his bare feet, staring at the bruises and scars that decorated his skin. He didn't understand what was happening. Why had he left the Institute? Where was Dr. Carter? Had he authorized his departure? Were these men doctors as well? Did they want to study his powers? He didn't understand and it was beginning to scare him.

"Sam."

The youngest Winchester looked up. They were calling him Sam. Not Twenty-Nine. Was that because they didn't know his number? It was on his arm. They had taken his shirt and gave him a new one which did not have his number. Were they trying to get on his good side? Were they actually trying to help him? Was all this a test? There were too many possibilities and it hurt Sam's head just thinking about it. He had to decide quickly what he was going to do.

"I... I am unsure, Sir, I'm s-sorry," Sam answered. He had decided to play it safe. Assume that they were from the Institue. Perhaps they were testing him, to see if he was broken enough. Maybe if he was good they wouldn't electrocute him. He would like that very much.

"You don't... you don't have to call me Sir. I'm Dean. You can call me Dean."

"Yes, Sir," Sam said. This was all a test. That's what it had to be. But that name sounded so familiar. Maybe it had been the name of a doctor. Yes, that must have been it. He was from the Institute. 

"Sam, do you know what year it is?" Cas questioned, ignoring the sad look on Dean's face.

"2006, Sir," Sam answered honestly, making sure not to make eye contact so he wouldn't be punished.

"It's 2016, actually," Bobby informed the youngest Winchester, a frown on his face that matched Dean's.

"Yes, Sir," Sam replied. In his head, he tried his best to work out the math. How could it be 2016? Had he really been in the Institute for ten years? No, that wasn't possible. Was it? Sam thought back to the strange machine he had woken up in. Perhaps that had something to do with it. Or, they were all lying. 

"Sam, do you understand that you've been missing for ten years? That we thought you were dead? That you haven't aged a day?"

Sam hadn't thought of the last point. He hadn't looked in a mirror, so there was no way to confirm if he looked a decade older. But he didn't want to question what they told him.

"I understand, Sir."

"You don't have to understand," Dean said, taking another step towards Sam, who remained as still as possible. Dean wished he could just hug Sam. He wished he remembered him.

He never got what he wished for, he thought bitterly as he stood next to his little brother.

"No, I do, I really do understand, I promise, Sir! You don't have to punish me!"

The three other men exchanged quizzical looks before Castiel decided to speak up.

"What do you mean 'punish you?'"

Sam shifted his weight nervously. "Hurt me because I break the rules. I promise I'll behave, you don't have to do the electrocution. Please."

Dean cursed loudly, making Sam jump. Oh no. This was it. He was getting punished. He should have kept his damn mouth shut.

"Dean, calm down you're scaring Sam."

Dean ignored Cas and walked out of the living room, slamming his fist against the wall as he exited the house.

"Am... am I going to be p-punished?" Sam whimpered, his head bowed. 

"No," Bobby said, giving Cas a look that told the angel he should go talk to Dean. "But you hungry?"

"No, Sir," Sam lied.

"Well, you'll eat anyway," Bobby decided, watching as Cas left to go talk to Dean. He nodded at Sam to follow him to the kitchen and he did, his footsteps almost silent against the flooring compared to Bobby's boots. Bobby had missed those footsteps, he thought.


	5. An Update, Not a Chapter (sorry)

Hey guys.

So, I know I haven't updated this fic in a while and that it really looks like I have no idea what I'm doing with it and you're right. 

I want to start this fic over. So, it's either **gonna be revamped** and is gonna be a mess for a while, or I'm **just gonna start all over** , I haven't completely decided yet. It depends on what I can salvage from the shitstorm we currently have, so I apologize for that. I just think I can do better and that this series deserves better. As do all of you.

So, sorry again for the inconvenience. 

\- N


End file.
